


Lecter's Massage Therapy

by hanni_banana



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: #JustFuckMeUp Fest, #justfuckmeup2, Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Erotic Massage, Hannibal is Not a Cannibal, Happy Ending, M/M, Massage, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prostate Massage, massage parlor, yes that kind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-13 00:08:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11172882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanni_banana/pseuds/hanni_banana
Summary: Desperately needing to unwind, Will makes an appointment with the massage therapist Hannibal Lecter, who is the best of the best when it comes to working over the body.  But for special referrals, Hannibal also offers other, more intimate services.  And Will is his latest special referral.





	Lecter's Massage Therapy

Will parked across the street and eyed the massage therapy building carefully. It was in a more than respectable part of town (a fancy part, frankly), and the façade was classic brick with white trim. A wooden sign hung above the door with an elegant font that read: _Lecter’s Massage Therapy_.

There was nothing remotely seedy about it. No advertisements of ‘all-body massage’ or ‘sensual massage,’ or any hint at all that anything illicit would happen within. Though from what Will understood, most of the time, nothing illicit did happen within. Hannibal Lecter ran a prominent massage practice, and an experienced and professional massage was all most of his clients experienced. You had to know to ask for the other, but more than that, you had to be specially referred by someone who knew about it, and Hannibal Lecter had to agree to the referral beforehand.

It was all terribly clandestine sounding, and as he started across the street, Will began to have doubts. What if this was all going to go horribly wrong in some way, what if Hannibal Lecter looked at him in disgust and mortification when he asked for something additional? How was he even supposed to do that, anyway? Will still had only a vague idea of how this was actually going to work.

This appointment was supposedly going to be a retreat for him from navigating social rituals, but at the moment it seemed entirely more complex and tiring. Will couldn’t believe he had let Alana talk him into this. For that matter, he couldn’t believe Alana had even known about this, but it wouldn’t do to think about that right now.

Will opened the door, and an old-fashioned bell above announced his arrival. The front room was small, and could barely be called a proper waiting room. There were two chairs, a potted plant, and not much else. But the atmosphere was bright, and the décor classic but welcoming.

At that moment, the wooden door at the side of the room opened, and a man stepped through.

“Good afternoon,” he said. “I’m Hannibal Lecter. Will Graham, I presume?”

“Yes,” Will said. “Hello.”

Hannibal held out his hand, and Will shook it, taking him in. He was about ten years older than Will, somewhere in his forties, and had a frame broader than Will’s and an unsurprisingly strong grip. Hannibal’s hair was smoothed back from his face, which despite being comprised of odd angles, was strikingly handsome. He was wearing gray slacks and a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Will thought it seemed impractical, but nothing about this place was what it seemed.

“You were referred to me by my dear friend Alana Bloom,” Hannibal said.

Will nodded. “She’s a colleague of mine, and a friend. She’s worried about me.” When Hannibal didn’t respond, but only patiently stared at him, Will explained further. “I have a… mental condition that makes it hard for me to disconnect sometimes. And I dislike being sociable, among other things.” Will paused as another thought occurred to him. “Did she tell you about me?”

“Only that she was referring you and that she hoped I would be able to help you relax. In whatever capacity makes you comfortable.”

“I’m honestly not sure what I want in what capacity,” Will said. “I debated the whole way here.” He gestured vaguely, including everything and nothing. “What is this, exactly?”

“It’s whatever you want it to be,” Hannibal said smoothly. “If you want nothing more than the conventional, then that’s what it is. If you want what Alana mentioned, that is available as well. Helping the body can help ease the mind.”

Will nodded to himself. The uncertainty was still churning in his stomach, but there was something else there as well, a spark of arousal at the idea of someone focusing solely on his needs, someone giving him attention with nothing expected in return. The idea of shutting his mind off and surrendering to it were incredibly tempting.

The idea of Hannibal himself was tempting. Will had been more than half afraid that he himself would get here, take one look at the man and whatever thoughts he was projecting, and decide that he couldn’t abide being touched by him, let alone intimately. But all he found in Hannibal was a strangely soothing and quietly confident presence. More importantly, the idea of the man’s powerful hands taking him apart was far from unappealing.

Will licked his lips. “I think we should proceed.”

“As you like,” Hannibal said with a pleasant smile. Then he gestured behind Will. “If you would please lock the door?”

Will’s brow furrowed, but he did as Hannibal asked.

“I am not expecting anyone else during our hour, but we wouldn’t want to be interrupted,” Hannibal explained. “Please, this way. We’ll be using room that’s the second door on the left.”

Will preceded him through the doorway, leaving the foyer behind. “You don’t have a receptionist?”

“Given the nature of my practice, I find it more convenient to manage all affairs myself.”

Will walked down the short hallway towards the only open doorway, but stopped dead when he saw the degrees hanging on the wall. “You’re a doctor?” he asked, turning to look at Hannibal. To look at _Dr._ Hannibal Lecter.

“I am. I was a surgeon.”

“And you ended up as a massage therapist,” Will said, unable to keep the skepticism out of his voice. “That’s the definition of overqualified.”

“I grew tired of the demands of my vocation. It left me little time for leisure or hobbies. And so I transferred my passion for anatomy into a related field. I set my own hours and have a rewarding practice where I fix bodies in a different way.”

Will nodded, and after a moment more, continued toward the room. Hannibal left him at the door.

“I will give you a few minutes to get undressed,” he said. Hannibal shut the door behind him, and Will was alone. 

The room wasn’t the typical massage room one imagined. There was no music playing, there were no small fountains or Zen-like décor, and the room wasn’t bright and white. Instead, there was a soothing blue wallpaper and an artful flower arrangement on an antique side table. The lighting wasn’t too dim or too bright, and a painted screen stood in one corner. In the middle of the room was the massage table, draped in two white sheets, and on the wall nearest it was an elegant porcelain sink and a cabinet containing various bottles and supplies.

Will began to remove his clothing, folding it on the shelves provided behind the screen. He stripped off his boxers with an air of finality and added them to the pile. Then he moved to the table and settled on his stomach between the sheets.

A moment later, Hannibal knocked on the door. “Will?”

“I’m ready,” Will said.

Hannibal entered the room, shutting the door behind him. “Are you comfortable?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” Hannibal said. He moved to the sink and washed his hands, then picked up a bottle and spread a small amount of oil over them. “If you become uncomfortable for any reason, simply let me know. What you want is what will happen.”

Will nodded and then put his face down in the opening of the massage table. He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.

“I’m going to begin with your shoulders,” Hannibal said. “I can tell just from looking that you’re carrying tension.”

Hannibal’s hands pulled the sheet down to Will’s waist, and the next thing he felt was a warm, steady touch smoothing over his shoulders. It was light at first—cursory, exploratory—but after it was clear that Will was at ease, the touch became firmer, and Hannibal began to work.

Will hadn’t felt that his shoulders were particularly tight, but Hannibal soon found a spot to concentrate on that proved him right. It felt achingly good and bad all the same time to have it rubbed, but Hannibal seemed to know that without being told. He would knead the tight muscles only for a minute or two before his hands would move elsewhere. Moments later, he would return to the problem areas and begin again.

Eventually, Hannibal moved away from the targeted efforts on Will’s shoulders and began to give what Will could only call the ultimate soothing massage. He moved through muscle groups, checking with skilled fingers for any tension to work out, and then simply rubbed Will’s upper body all over. Hannibal started on the broad planes of Will’s back, slowly moving over muscles with no apparent purpose other than relaxation. Then he focused on Will’s spine, touching each vertebrae in a slow ascension to his neck. The neck massage seemed to last forever, with Hannibal’s fingers pressing and sliding over Will’s skin in such a skillful way that Will wanted him to never stop. 

From there, Hannibal returned to his shoulders, and then moved to his arms. Hannibal gave his full attention to one arm and then the other, massaging each from shoulder to fingertip. Will enjoyed the muscles of his upper arms being worked and squeezed, but the hand massage left him entirely boneless. Hannibal’s fingers intertwined with his, working Will’s hands with a slow, steady pressure that was utterly soothing.

Hannibal had already completed his attentions to Will’s right arm, and was in the middle of his left. Will actually sighed as Hannibal began massaging his left hand, knowing the sensation would be over soon.

“What would you like next, Will?” Hannibal said, speaking for the first time in over half an hour. “I could massage your legs. Or I could remove the sheet entirely.”

Will felt utterly spent, and for a moment, he considered simply taking the massage that he’d been given so far. But the Hannibal’s voice also made him think of other possibilities. It was why he was here, after all—for some uncomplicated relief and release. It had been so long since he’d had any, let alone any that was uncomplicated.

“Remove the sheet,” Will said.

“As you wish.”

With that, the sheet was pulled from his body and Will was bare. But he didn’t feel exposed. Anticipation was slowly building in him, and he wanted Hannibal’s touch on his body in a different capacity.

“I will begin with a leg massage,” Hannibal said, “as well as focusing on your gluteal muscles.”

Then Hannibal’s hands were on him. He began on Will’s calves, thoroughly rubbing the muscles on each one before he moved upward to Will’s thighs. At first he did nothing but work the tissue there like he had worked other parts of Will’s body. But after the muscles were kneaded and relaxed, Hannibal’s hands began to drift. It was subtle at first, almost like part of a regular massage. He slid over the upper thigh and then brought a hand down each side, rubbing the inner and outer thigh at once. The hand that was gliding up and down Will’s inner thigh neared his groin with each pass it made, and Will felt the first real stirrings of arousal.

Hannibal finished his treatment of one thigh and moved to the other, his hands just as dexterous as they expertly hinted at even more to come. After that, he moved to the bottom of Will’s leg, gripping his ankle and then slowly sliding his hands all the way up Will’s leg. He didn’t stop when he reached Will’s rear, and Will had the first taste of Hannibal’s hands stroking over his backside. But Hannibal didn’t linger, simply pressing over one cheek before he moved to the next, continuing on his path down Will’s other leg. This was done in several repetitions, the circle of touch predictable and arousing all at the same time.

Will was slowly getting hard, a leisurely sensation he wasn’t inclined to rush. He appreciated the drag of Hannibal’s hands over his legs, but he began to ache for the moment of contact with the cheeks of his ass. On the third repetition, Hannibal didn’t continue down Will’s legs, but instead turned his attention to kneading the meat of Will’s backside. He started on one side, rubbing up and down from the muscles of Will’s upper thigh all the way to his lower back, before concentrating more firmly on his ass. Hannibal repeated the process on his other side, and then he simply began rubbing Will’s cheeks, a hand on each one.

Will was fully aroused now, the expert ministrations bringing him to hardness even though his genitals hadn’t been touched. His cock was pointed downward, still mostly between himself and the massage table, though he knew Hannibal had to be able to see part of it. He hadn’t so much as touched it, though.

Currently, Hannibal was stroking over Will’s ass, his fingers digging in as he went in a circular motion that pulled his cheeks apart.

“Are you comfortable, Will?”

“Extremely,” Will said, amazed at how relaxed his voice sounded. “Is it time for the happy ending?”

“If you prefer,” Hannibal said, still unhurriedly rubbing. “But I believe something more targeted would yield better results. Would you like an internal massage?”

Will’s breath caught.

“Is that on offer?” he finally managed to get out. He was surprised, but far from displeased.

“Of course,” Hannibal said. One of his hands drifted to Will’s center, sliding down his crack and back up, just once. “Is that something you would like?”

The touch against his hole was electric. If Will hadn’t already desperately wanted it, that might have decided him. He had hardly had a plethora of sexual encounters, and while the idea of prostate massage was appealing, the two experiences he’d had with it consisted of fumbling good intentions and a lot of random prodding. But Will had no doubt that Hannibal would know exactly what to do to bring him to the edge of pleasure. 

“Yes,” Will said.

“Very well.”

Will heard the snick of a bottle cap as Hannibal opened the oil again. When Hannibal’s hands returned to his ass, they were undeniably slick. Up to this point, Hannibal had used a minimal amount of oil, simply to ease the glide of skin on skin, but now he rubbed it into Will with purpose. He began slowly, simply massaging Will’s backside, but his hands no longer went from cheek to cheek. Instead, when Hannibal moved from one side to the other, he slid into the valley of Will’s crack, his fingers canvassing it as if it were simply another part of him.

However, that changed quickly enough. Soon Hannibal abandoned Will’s cheeks altogether, and slid in between, stroking him from top to bottom. He didn’t pay special attention to Will’s hole at first, just glided his fingers over it as he continued his ministrations. But then he began to apply more pressure at each pass, the tip of a finger hinting at the penetration that was to come.

When the steady movement of Hannibal’s hands paused, Will knew he was about to be breached and he relished the moment of anticipation. He felt a slick finger rub at the outside of his hole, teasing it, testing it. The finger pushed slightly, and then harder. Will’s hole opened to the pressure, and then the finger was in.

Will gasped with pleasure as Hannibal buried his finger to the second knuckle. He could only imagine what it looked like. Just the idea of those strong, thick fingers going inside him was arousing; feeling them inside him was going to be his undoing. Will felt his hole clench and he resisted the urge to press back. His cock was aching with pleasure and he wanted this to go on for as long as possible.

Hannibal moved his finger experimentally, pushing it slightly deeper and then pulling it out. He seemed to divine that Will loved the initial sensation of penetration, and he spent what seemed like several minutes just playing with Will’s rim, pressing his finger in and out of it, running a fingertip along the inside of it, and simply rubbing it. But then he delved deeper, thrusting his finger into Will in short, determined movements. Will was long past ready when Hannibal added a second, and he relished the stretch of it, savored the depth of it as Hannibal pushed as far as he could go.

When Hannibal’s fingers curled and brushed his prostate, Will jerked on the table. His breath had long ago turned to gasps, but now his hands came up to grip the sides of the table as Hannibal worked inside him. Hannibal’s fingers rubbed around the edges, circling in a delicious sensation that suspended Will on the edge of pleasure. He couldn’t help pushing back now, lifting his hips slightly as his legs opened wider.

Hannibal took the opportunity to slide his other hand underneath, fondling Will’s balls with slick fingers before he grasped Will’s cock. He stroked him with a firm, steady rhythm that somehow matched the pulse of his fingers inside. Those fingers were relentless now, moving rapidly over the spot he so desperately wanted touched. Will was panting, his hands clenched and his toes curled, as he seemed suspended on Hannibal’s fingers. Hannibal’s hand on his cock seemed almost secondary—pleasurable to be certain, but nothing compared to what was going on inside him.

Hannibal was buried him and it was like nothing he’d ever felt before. The sensations were overwhelming, more intense than sex had ever been. Hannibal’s fingers furiously rubbed, and Will couldn’t help the moan that escaped him. Hannibal continued his targeted assault, and then curved his fingers and pressed, hard.

Will came with a cry. It seemed blinding, the sensations rolling from the center of him continuing to plateau. He was coming, but it felt different, his orgasm hitting him from all sides. He came under Hannibal’s hand as well, fluid spurting from his cock as Hannibal continued to work him inside and out, wringing him dry. Will’s body relaxed as he finally spent himself, his muscles loosening as he fell bonelessly to the table.

He felt completely and utterly satisfied in every way possible.

Hannibal’s fingers slid from him, and a moment later, Will heard him washing his hands. Then Hannibal was back, his hand brushing Will’s hip as he said, “Lift, please. I will get the worst of the mess.”

Will lifted his hips, propping himself up on his elbows as he did so. He saw Hannibal reach under him with a disposable towel and wipe up the semen on the sheet. With another disposable wipe, Hannibal cleaned Will’s stomach off, before he threw both towels in the trash.

“Now you may lie back down and continue to relax,” Hannibal said.

Will did so, settling back on the table. He turned his head to the side and crossed his arms underneath. A moment later, Hannibal began smoothing over him with a cool, damp cloth. He started at Will’s neck and worked down to his feet, taking care around his middle to remove as much of the oil as possible. He then asked Will to turn, and Will shifted onto this back. Hannibal repeated the process on Will’s front side, wiping over his chest and under his arms. He again cleaned Will’s flaccid cock, but there was nothing arousing about the care. Not that Will could have gotten hard again right now even if he’d wanted to.

Will watched Hannibal as he moved. It was the first time he had looked at the man since the massage began, and he wasn’t sure what he expected to see. Hannibal looked exactly as he had when he’d greeted Will at the door, no evidence that he was in any way affected by what he’d done.

Will shut his eyes, relaxed and comfortable. He had been unsure how he would feel about this being a transaction, or if it would actually be any easier than the alternative. But there was release in having no expectations to navigate, and he found that he didn’t feel anything other than pleasure and relief.

When Hannibal was done, he washed his hands again, before coming to stand at the table over Will’s head. He ran another cool cloth over Will’s face, before he began gently massaging his temples.

“I find that a head massage is a pleasant way to end,” Hannibal said, his tones as soothing as his hands.

“Mm,” Will said, his eyes still closed.

His mind was quiet, and for once he felt like he was in the presence of someone that he could manage to keep it quiet with. The sex had certainly helped, but there was something peaceful about Hannibal in general. Calm waters separated from the chaos of the world.

Hannibal’s hands began to run though his hair, which was a sensation Will had always found beyond comforting.

“Was I able to help you, Will?” Hannibal asked.

Will nodded, leaning into Hannibal’s touch.

“I’m glad,” Hannibal said. “Does that mean you will return?”

Will spoke for the first time since Hannibal had been inside him. “Yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> ...the end? This could be a one shot, but I think I could do more with it too. Should the massage adventures of Hannibal and Will continue?
> 
> Me on [tumblr](http://hanni-banana.tumblr.com/)! <3


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